Dealing with Jaenelle's Return
by KaLX
Summary: I always wondered at what happened when Jaenelle returned from rescuing Daemon, when the boyos and coven really began to come into their own. This is just a story I had in mind. If people like it, I'll keep writing. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

*Should go without saying that all characters belong to Anne Bishop, NOT ME!*

Saetan winced as he heard the loud crash reverberate through the Hall. Although a part of him was secretly pleased to have his home filled with laughter and chatter again, at times it seemed like a little too much excitement. As a second, louder crash followed the first, he hesitated between investigating further and fleeing into the sanctuary of his study.

"KHARY YOU IDIOT!"

As Karla's enraged screech echoed through the Hall, he decided that he could certainly justify leaving the problem to Helene and the rest of the staff. Hurrying as much as dignity would allow, he reached his study with a grateful sigh and went to pour himself a much needed glass of Yarbarah. Only his study wasn't empty. Two warlords, two warlord princes, a centaur, and a wolf stared back at him woefully. He blinked slowly, watching as the worried stares of the young men turned uneasy and embarrassed. Well, most of them.

"She will not speak to us; will not even look at us." Chaosti whispered coldly, glaring at Saetan as if Jaenelle's new injuries and sense of shyness were his fault. It was a poke to a still raw wound, as Saetan still blamed himself for so much that had happened to Daemon. He exhaled harshly, barely managing to contain his temper.

"Maybe you could talk to her, High Lord, maybe we've done something wrong." Khardeen jumped in, pleadingly. Aaron simply stared at the floor, looking troubled.

"Lads," Saetan began quietly, his reaction to Chaosti's words fading in the face of their distress, "this is not something that we can push. If she believes that she needs a bit more space to heal, then that is the situation."

"But, High Lord, you don't understand…She wouldn't even see us! We had to break down the door to make sure she was alright!"

"Karla wasn't pleased…" Aaron added unnecessarily. Karla's tempers were many things; subtle wasn't one of them.

"I'm surprised she let you leave with all of your limbs still attached" Saetan murmured, remembering her displeased reaction to the no longer mysterious crashes.

"Lucivar distracted her while we ran away." Khary explained.

"We did not run away," Chaosti glared at Khary "we simply exited the situation, allowing the more prepared male to diffuse the tension."

"So, in other words, we ran."

"Wait, you counted on Lucivar to _diffuse_…" Saetan stuttered, his words interrupted by a third explosion that shook the entire Hall. After a blessed second of silence, female shrieks joined with the snarls of an enraged Eyerian. Saetan closed his eyes, reminding himself that he loved his son, he loved his son.

His patience waning, Saetan began to hurry upstairs to Jaenelle's room. Looking thoughtful, he stopped for a moment, shielded heavily, and then continued. The group of young men followed warily, exchanging unhappy glances.

"But we just barely got away last time!" Morton whispered terrified.

As the number of bangs began increasing in both frequency and volume, Saetan decided that the time for delicacy had passed.

"For now, at least, Jaenelle needs peace, or at least as much as she can get with this delightful group hovering about." he snapped. "As much as we all pretend that my daughter is forever grateful for our attentive fussing, she would probably welcome a bit of time to process everything that has happened. No doubt the coven is also panicked and distressed at her injuries. If you want something useful to do, here is my suggestion: look after the rest of the coven, Jaenelle will heal sooner with a bit of privacy."

"_Mother night_!_"_ he hissed, as a chunk of wall flew past him. He started running in earnest then, desperate to save what remained of the Hall.

The boyos exchanged surprised glances, and in the case of Prince Smoke, one incredulous woof, before Saetan's words sunk in.

"I thought Gabrielle was looking rather thin" said Chaosti, his face tight with disapproval. "The darkness knows when she last ate something…"

"…Morghann hasn't slept all week…"

"…Thought I heard Kalush crying in her room…"

No longer wary, the boyos broke into a run towards Jaenelle's room, overtaking Saetan right as they reached the, now non-existent, door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Still not mine. All worlds and characters belong to Anne Bishop**

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"NO CHAOSTI! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Gabrielle, I don't think you properly understand the situation. As a darker jeweled witch, not to mention a healer and black widow, your body needs plenty of food and…"

As Gabrielle's furious, frustrated shriek penetrated the walls of the library, Saetan began to regret encouraging the boyos to "look after" the coven. He also wasn't looking forward to the chat that he would invariably have to initiate if they didn't learn an ounce of subtlety. He heard a smack and a yelp of pain as Gabrielle clearly decided to end the conversation once and for all. He refused to look up as Chaosti entered the library, rubbing his shoulder and wincing.

"Prince," he began, but stopped when he saw the lost look on the young warlord prince's face. _Not so young any more_, he thought with a sad smile. Chaosti just continued to stare at the door Gabrielle had slammed.

"Uncle Saetan what do I do?" Chaosti whispered, sounded hurt and frustrated. With Jaenelle still on bed rest from her trip to the Twisted Kingdom rescuing Daemon, the males had responded by becoming even more protective of the rest of the coven. It was a protectiveness that the coven did not seem to appreciate. As if to underscore the point, Morton trudged into the library, head hanging low. He appeared to be cradling his arm which…

"Morton what in the Darkness's name happened to your arm!?"

"Karla. I was just trying to tuck her in, she hasn't really been sleeping since Jaenelle got back and, well…" he hung his head even lower as Saetan saw the edge of very faint bite marks peeking out from under Morton's sleeve.

"Rookie mistake" smirked Khary as he strolled into the library. "I have learned through years of experience that, when advising a witch on what is best for her, all well-liked appendages must be kept out of reach."

"What are you so cheery about?" snapped Chaosti. "Didn't Morghann throw a bowl at you this morning?"

Khary's smile faltered for a moment before he rallied. "A minor miscommunication, no doubt it was an accident." Morton snorted disbelievingly and Saetan privately agreed.

"Boyos, look" Saetan began, trying not to show his amusement. "You are no longer children and…"

"_We_ know that, Uncle Saetan!" exclaimed Chaosti, while the others started at his emotion. "It's just some, well, some other people don't seem to realize that, that people grow older, and change…" his voice trailed off as his pale skin flushed lightly. He pursed his lips and glared at the floor.

"Honesty, Chaosti. You must be honest. Children get to pull on pigtails and push you into a pond when they are angry…"

"Just children?" murmured Morton irritated, remembering a certain morning's practice session that he had almost overslept.

"Well," Saetan sighed, "children and Lucivar. But if you want the coven to take you seriously, you will have to learn how to communicate not just what you want but why you want it." Saetan noticed Chaosti staring at him, grey-blue eyes intent. "Communication." he reiterated firmly. With one sharp nod, Chaosti strode out of the library. The rest of the boyos stared after him, some with a touch of envy, others fear.

"She'll kill him!" whispered Morton, eyes wide. "Uncle Saetan, you have to do something!" With another sigh, Saetan shooed them all out of the library. While he had faith in Chaosti, and the warlord prince he was becoming, he had to admit to a few nerves as to how Gabrielle would react. He grabbed his book and quietly went upstairs to one of the empty rooms. Here he would not interrupt their privacy, but would be able to hear if the situation began to escalate. If Gabrielle did lash out, he would have to speak to her as well. It was a careful dance, that between queens and the males who served them. A dance that had to be all the more delicate when your partner was a warlord prince. If Gabrielle did not realize that the path went both ways, he would have to, gently, inform her. Saetan gripped his book more firmly, praying to the darkness that the halls would remain quiet.

Despite his confident posture, Chaosti had butterflies thumping rapidly in his stomach. He had always known that Gabrielle was special, even when they had been children. He knew, a part of him just knew, that what would happen in the next conversation would define them both and he anxiously hoped that he could find the strength to say everything that he needed to say.

As he walked toward Gabrielle's rooms, he found himself feeling extraordinarily grateful to Uncle Saetan, who was, after all, kin of his kin. How many would have been able to advise so wisely and yet also understand? Although there could occasionally be tension between two dark-jeweled warlord princes serving the same queen, he found himself feeling a small joy that Jaenelle finally had a father worthy of her. With the end of that thought, he found himself at Gabrielle's door. He stared at its polished wood, feeling anxious and terrified.

In the end, it was the realization that she never_ had_ eaten a proper lunch that propelled him to knock. He heard annoyed mutterings as soft footfalls approached the entryway. As the door was pulled open, Chaosti steeled his spine, and his courage, for what would come next.


	3. Chapter 3

Gabrielle was scowling, scowling and glaring. Her blue-grey eyes were narrowed and her silvery hair looked tangled. Her hands gripped the edge of the door so hard that her knuckles were turning white. Looking at her, Chaosti felt all of the words he had practiced in his head dry up in his throat. As Chaosti remained silent, Gabrielle's glare intensified. "What. Is. It. Chaosti?" She snapped, biting off each word.

As her anger sank in, Chaosti realized that he could never say the things that he wanted, needed to say. He bitterly cursed his own weakness and the knowledge that he was letting this moment pass by shook him to his core. Desperate to say something, to save the situation, he opened his mouth, but all that emerged was a croak. As Gabrielle's scowl faded into a worried frown, Choasti inwardly berated himself. He was a fool to think that he was worthy of her. He swallowed painfully and turned silently to leave the room, convinced of his complete and utter failure. As he slowly pivoted, however, he felt a hand grip his arm.

"Chaosti?" whispered Gabrielle, looking stricken. "Is everything alright, I'm sorry, I'm, I'm so sorry that I hit you earlier. I just hate how I'm feeling, I'm a healer and I can't even heal my best friend when she needs it most…I'm useless, just…useless…" Chaosti looked up and saw Gabrielle's eyes filling with tears. All thoughts of self-pity fled: his Queen was upset; he felt a rage building inside himself as tears slipped down her pale cheeks. Gabrielle's expression stabilized as she sensed the shift in Chaosti's mood.

He found that he couldn't focus on anything but her tears, the rage was building and Gabrielle's breath began to frost in the room's air. Fresh tears dripped down her face and Chaosti knew that soon he would slip entirely into a cold fury and there was nothing that he could do about it.

"I'm hungry." He blinked slowly, focused his stare on the rest of her face, trying to anchor his temper. Gabrielle gave him a watery smiled and repeated herself: "Chaosti, I'm very hungry, would you mind if we went to the kitchen to get something to eat?"

He felt his temper focus, sharpen, and, very slightly, release; she hadn't eaten anything proper today. He nodded quickly and instinctively grabbed her hand, her touch calmed the last edges of his temper enough for him to embrace the task of finding food for his Queen. Gabrielle, however, pulled him back. He looked at her face, searching for a clue as to what she wanted, what she needed, how he could serve. She smiled slightly and, gently, kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Chaosti" she whispered softly. He knew his expression became puzzled, always searching, always memorizing her features. She smiled again, knowing his confusion, "for being there" she explained, "for always being there." They left the room together, with Chaosti gently leading Gabrielle by the hand towards the kitchen.

Saetan smiled as he saw the two silvery heads walk down the hall. He let out a relieved sigh and leaned back in his chair.

"Lady, Prince" a voice said respectively and Saetan closed his eyes as Andulvar popped his head into the room, worry creasing the features of his face. "Everything alright up here?" he inquired gently. Every member of the household had felt the beginnings of a cold rage sweep through the Hall. That cold sweep would ensure that the servants would provide everything that Chaosti would need to care for Gabrielle, hopefully without comment.

"Fine, fine." Saetan blew out another breath. "That could have gone worse."

"Eh," smirked Andulvar, relaxing now that the situation was resolved, "the puppies are well-intentioned and any Queen trained with Jaenelle knows how to handle a male in a snit." Saetan snorted and hoped fervently that Chaosti would never hear that Andulvar had referred to his rage as "a snit."

"Ah, well, they're all growing up. The others may be next." A chair creaked as Andulvar settled himself more comfortably across from Saetan.

Andulvar smiled lazily, "we could always use a little more excitement around here."

Saetan rolled his eyes and muttered darkly "we can't all fly away if the Hall explodes." Andulvar's smile widened and Saetan found himself sharing in his friend's amusement. Suddenly, Andulvar's grin became more serious:

"If the boyos are beginning to stake claims, do you need to talk with the coven? Let them know what to expect?" Saetan sobered and sighed.

"Yes, probably. Although, given Gabrielle's reaction, it can probably wait for another day." Andulvar nodded in agreement and leaned back in his chair.


	4. Chapter 4

***Characters still belong to Anne Bishop, not me. So sorry it took me so long to update this, I honestly forgot I had written it until Twilight's Dawn came out! Hope people like this chapter and, if people read and review, I promise it won't take me over a year to update!***

"Do you think everything's ok?" Kalush sounded nervous, nervous and concerned. Gabrielle had been in an odd mood all day, traveling back and forth between barely hidden temper and melancholy silence. At first, Karla had chalked it up to the reemergence of a healer's frustration, recognizing the limitations of even strong jewels is a difficult lesson, but their talk earlier hadn't seemed able to shake whatever was bothering her. Jaenelle had looked understanding when she'd told Gabrielle to try and get some sleep, although Karla now noticed the faintest lines of sadness around her mouth. When she noticed Karla staring, Jaenelle gave her a tired smile.

"Kiss kiss, love." Karla smirked, trying to change the tone of the room. Kalush continued to look troubled.

"Do you think we should check on Gabrielle? Are we sure that Chaosti is alright?" Even in a sitting room on the other side of the Hall, they had all felt the stirrings of a Warlord Prince's rage and while the boyos could have their moments, they couldn't match a Queen when it came to protective instincts.

Jaenelle's smile lost its tired edge, "no, no, she's fine, they're both fine."

Reassured, Kalush smiled brightly at the room."Anyone for cradle? Morghann?" Morghann's only response was a groan.

"I know, I know" Kalush murmured unsympathetically as she began dealing pieces and cards. "Poor you."

"I'm already bored and we haven't even started playing yet." Morghann grumbled.

"We could always do some gardening" Kalush suggested, double checking the two hands.

"As long as you don't mind the boyos giving their opinion on whether or not you should carry that bucket or if you're getting close to a sunburn and should move into the shade" Karla smirked. Morghann's face went stony and she grabbed her pieces, their last attempt at gardening had not ended pleasantly. As she watched Morghann leaf through her options for her first turn, Karla felt an idea slowly form in her mind.

Morghann looked at her appreciatively, "spill, Sister, if you have an idea, it is your coven duty to share." Kalush began looking nervous again.

"No more cooking, Karla, Mrs. Beale was so upset last time…"

"I'm not going to cook anything," Karla snapped, especially not after Uncle Saetan had threatened to make her eat anything else that she made. A complete overreaction to a teeny, tiny mishap. She had told Mrs. Beale that she would replace all of the wooden spoons. "Why don't we improve it?" she said quickly.

"Your cooking?" Kalush asked worriedly. Karla glared, her Coven sisters should have more faith in her innate culinary talents. Jaenelle began snickering behind her, as if adding the wormwort hadn't been her idea in the first place. Traitor.

"No, Kalush, cradle." Karla continued impatiently. "We should improve it." Morghann perked up, interested. "It's just a children's game now, but we could add new rules, new pieces even, make it a game you can really sink your teeth into." Kalush's eyes widened. Taking a breath to increase the anticipation, Karla continued dramatically, "Yes, my sisters, I am suggesting that we create…Karladle!" Kalush giggled as Jaenelle rolled her eyes. Karla sighed, "Or just, you know, 15 variations of cradle."

"Yes," Morghann breathed, "honestly, there are so many other ways for the pieces to fit together, the cards too, there's no reason for it to be so simple…" her voice broke off as she jumped up to find a notebook.

"And," Karla continued sweetly, "the poor boyos have been looking for something to do, it seems only fair that we create something that could amuse them as well." Jaenelle's silvery laugh filled the room as Kalush, Morghann, and Katrine began excitedly conferencing and scribbling.

"Aaron is not going to believe this…" Kalush's eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed.

"I can't wait to see Khary's face, he thinks he's so clever. Do you know he tried to force me to eat a bowl of stew earlier? As if I can't recognize when I'm hungry and when I'm not?"

"He did not! What did you do?"

"Threw the bowl at him."

"Sounds logical to me" Karla responded pertly. Kalush covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter.

"Aaron's been weirdly protective of his arms and hands lately. Right before I came up, we were talking and I reached out, just to tug his sleeve, and he jerked back a little. He looked embarrassed after, but…isn't that odd?" Kalush's laugh didn't quite cover the slight sense of hurt. Karla looked down guiltily, stupid Morton and his stupid obsession with naps.

Morghann gave Kalush a knowing look and soon the two were intently discussing the eccentricities of male behavior, especially the recent changes in Khary and Aaron. As blushes began spreading on their cheeks, Karla felt her own face grow still. She crawled a little further back into the couch, feeling comforted by Jaenelle's presence. After a few minutes listening to the chatter, Karla braced herself and looked down.

"It's starting, isn't it?" She asked softly. Jaenelle only seemed to focus more on the experimental movements of the cradle pieces. After a minute of silence, she sighed quietly, "yes, it is." Karla felt her eyes get hot. She knew it was stupid, knew it was unfair, but she couldn't help the reaction.

"I'm not ready," she finally whispered. After a few seconds, she looked up. "Do you think, do you think it will change things?" Jaenelle looked at her, understanding.

"Yes." One word, Jaenelle respected her too much to lie or try and sugarcoat the situation. Karla was truly happy for her friends, for her sisters. Gabrielle had thought that they hadn't noticed her playful teasing of Chaosti turn introspective, hadn't noticed Kalush getting quiet when she hadn't seen Aaron that day. Witch saw first, Witch always saw first, but Karla hadn't been far behind. They watched the scribbles grow on the notebook and the positions of the cards become organized.

"Will this ever happen for me?" she asked, her voice small. Midnight eyes met hers. Karla saw both sympathy and understanding. More than anyone, Witch understood what it was to feel out of place. Karla took a shaky breath and nodded her head quickly. She swallowed hard, felt regret solidify into a pit in her stomach. It was almost hard to breathe. Jaenelle's hand found hers, squeezing it tightly, allowing her to get control before her sister's noticed her shift in mood.

*Karla?* She felt Morton's hesitant question in her mind, he always had been more in tune with her emotions. She suddenly fiercely regretted biting him. As she watched Witch survey the scene with quiet amusement, tinged ever so slightly with loneliness, Karla felt intense relief that she had, that she would always have, Morton. The relief was heady.

*Morton!* She felt Morton withdraw nervously. How unfair, her cousin never did seem to appreciate her enthusiasm. *Fancy a game of cradle?* she asked innocently.


End file.
